Influence
by allisonwonderland1496
Summary: Desdemonia is one of the many victims of Heavenly Host. She wanders through the eerie halls, contemplating the fate she was forever condemned to, when new arrivals collect her best interests. Is fate truly set for these newcomers? Can Desdemonia, lost soul she is, make a difference?
1. Newcomers

Another Earthquake. God, I hated Earthquakes.

The floor split, boards snapped, doors collapsed, and everywhere were the echoing screams of agony. Those tortured souls who would never escape eternal suffering, relieving their deaths over and over again. Bound to the terrors of Heavenly Host Elementary.

It was enough to drive one to madness. Delirium. Insanity. All of which were quite familiar to me.

After all, I was one with the school. Just like the others. Just like the fate these newcomers were bound to fall to. The thought, if taken in several years ago on the day I'd been simply another toy for our delusional master, would have come to me in a flurry of emotions. I probably would have sought after these strangers, fighting my way to reverse the curse and save their skins as well as my own. But it was, of course, useless. There is no way to rid of this damn hellhole, these damn bloodthirsty wanderers.

There was no such thing as a way out. It'd taken seven years for me to accept that.

"Seiko! Seiko! Come on, Seiko! Wake up!"

And here were the devil's new pets. Two females, it seems, judging by the voice and the name, Seiko.

Seiko? What a lovely name. Much more preferable than Desdemonia. Short. Simple. Sweet. I'm a bit envious.

"Huh? Naomi? …What's up?"

Naomi, the other, Seiko, female says. It's bothersome how nice their titles are. It's the tiniest luxuries that tear into the pitiful core of us trapped souls. Little things like having better names or eating our favorite meals or, I don't know, having an actual human body. Not these excuses of rag dolls we lug around, touching but not feeling, hitting but not hurting (in that sense). We did hurt. Oh, we hurt _a lot_. But the most unbearable pain we must face throughout these endless years in these empty halls… is want. Desire. We crave human contact. We long for the choice to be reckless and get harmed in the process, because _we'd_ be the ones who brought it upon ourselves. Not some savage seven year old girl. It almost embarrassed me how easily we fell into the clutches of such a tiny figure.

We were sick of dealing the same death. It was, in a sickening sense, _boring_.

I sighed, shoving my ghostly hands into my pockets, wondering how it would have felt back in the original world. Would I have felt the fabric sliding along my knuckles? Maybe discover a loose pin? I would never know.

"Don't you 'what's up' me! I thought you were dead!"

Pushing aside my wallowing in self-pity, the two girls were continuing on with their conversation, not yet aware of their definite doom. Shame.

With a shrug I decide to heck with it. Some rare entertainment to somewhat distract me from the never ending experience of bleeding to death… I'll take it.

Quietly, quietly, I watch, blending in with the shadows.

"…uh…Where…Where are we?"

_Welcome to Heavenly Host where your nightmares become nothing but reality_.


	2. Interference

Naomi and Seiko. It was obvious they were close. Although one seemed to look at the other in a more intimidating way. Seiko had her interest set on her companion. However Naomi, judging by Seiko's chat of a boy named Satoshi, had her heart elsewhere.

I hated seeing these love scenarios play out. They always seemed to lead toward more angst and misery.

Sachiko, however, absolutely adored these moments. To her, they were excellent ways of ensuring more agony and suffering. They were key opportunities to make her victims squirm before splatting them to damnation. It always went the way the psychotic elementary kid wanted it to go. No questions asked.

Right now, I leaned beside the door to the infirmary where dearest Naomi was left behind so Seiko could search on for some other lost child. A sister of some sort, apparently related to Naomi's crush, Satoshi. While listening to the panicking screams of Naomi encountering that satanic child's mother, I wondered randomly just how this Satoshi looked. Was he handsome? Naomi was actually really pretty. I bet he was good looking. Was he aware of her feelings? Does he feel the same? I'd hope so, but it's best not to have romantic attachments in a place like this.

I sighed, hearing the sound of nails scratching deliriously on wood. Hair was being ripped away and I knew Sachiko was having the time of her life traumatizing the girl.

Did I like anyone? Was there a boy I ever had feelings for?

I shook my head, clearing myself of these absurd curiosities. What did it matter, anyway?

The screams continued. For a moment I just stay there, motionless, trying to steer away from the door to search for Seiko. How was she holding up? But before I could do such a thing, an odd emotion washed over me and I stared at the door, blocked from the inside. I could sense the paralyzing fear leaking through the wooden frame. And it didn't exactly hurt or affect me, but it wasn't exactly enjoyable.

I frowned, cocking my head in disbelief. Did I actually still have some humanity left within me? Did I actually want to look after this girl?

"Open! Please, open!"

Her voice had completely changed, wavering with her panic driven attempts to flee. It was terrible, really. Such a pretty girl, capable of such an ugly sound. I sighed, exasperated. Sachiko would be pissed, but I couldn't wait through this any longer.

Slowly, I passed through the wall, keeping my presence to a minimum. Inside, I noted Naomi, shakily clawing at tight strands of hair to no avail. The shadow was approaching her as a slow rate, but I knew once she even touched the thing, she'd be a goner.

I looked over at a lone cart, a pack of matches resting just on top. Perfect. This wouldn't guarantee her safety, but it'd keep her life blazing just a tad bit longer.

Casually, I bumped the tray with my knee, sending it topping to its side. The matches slid away toward Naomi who jumped at the noise. Even the shadow paused a moment to glare at me and I took this as a cue to get out and run.

Right before I pass back into the wall, however, I caught a glimpse of Naomi bending down to collect the item, flicking a flame, and staring, actually focusing on where I had stood. As though she saw me. Which was impossible. She could only see me if I wanted her to which I didn't,

Right?

The hair lit, the door was opened, and I shot back into the darkness to catch the scene roll out before me. Naomi vomited and Seiko had returned. But something about the way Naomi grew rigid told me that this wasn't going to be a happy reunion.


	3. Toy

"Seiko! Seiko!"

From behind me, I heard the dark cackles of Sachiko, lingering in the shadows. All the anger aimed at me from my earlier interference was forgotten, replaced by the sheer giddiness of watching her victims separate in screams and tears of anguish and regret. Naomi, her nails clawing their way inside her mouth to yank away large clumps of hair, continued to wail for her fleeing companion, struggling to apologize and fix the damage that had been dealt.

My fingers fold into a fist and I find myself shaking.

"Seiko! Seiko! I'm so-!" she crumbled and broke into convulsions, gagging and gasping her way to a heavy stand, reaching out to the walls for support.

Something inside me boiled and sizzled and I was far too enveloped with these new emotions of mine to realize the impossible was coming true.

I was feeling something other than physical suffering.

It was fury. I was getting genuinely upset.

"Seiko! S- I'm s-. Ack…" She punched the eaten away wood, drowning in her tears. How could Sachiko just stand there, enduring this...cruelty?

Why did it seem like I had been the one who yelled at Seiko? Why did it also seem like I'd also been the one being yelled at?

It hurt. It hurt so much.

"Seiko!"

With a grimace, I threaded fingers through my hair, pulling, tugging, yanking. These noises were unbearable. The screams felt like needles jamming into my flesh, cutting deep into my core. My skin felt flaky, the ground seemed to yank me down with such tremendous force. My eyes grew heavy and my lungs felt full of ash. With a violent cough, blood snaked down my chin and dribbled to the floor. Nails dug into my scalp and I could actually feel the pain that followed. A new sort of pain. Something besides whatever it was I was so accustomed to dealing with in my neverending cycle of death.

Everything I was succumbing to, it hurt much worse than what I was used to. Everything pulling me down and stabbing into me, it felt so terrifyingly real and I began to wonder absurdly if I had somehow managed to come back to the living just to be torn down back to the grave.

I felt a cold breath traveling down my spine.

Swiveling around, I jolted back a few feet, slamming into a closed door, wincing in pain.

Impossible.

"Who's there?"

Impossible.

Sachiko towered above me and I noted the door had crumbled under my thrown weight, throwing me to the ground.

Impossible.

"What...did you do?" I croaked, not daring to shuffle even an inch closer to the satanic girl before me. Her eyes crinkled with humor and her lips seemed to crackle under the stress being placed on them. They rose to an inhuman level and her tongue lashed out, moistening those dry, dry lips. The sound of approaching footsteps echoed the halls from beyond the collapsed doorway and I knew it to be none other than Naomi.

Impossible.

Without warning, the small demon pointed out her index finger, tilting her head innocently and gesturing towards my chest where a beating heart was meant to rest.

And sure enough, listening intently, a beating heart existed within. Alive.

Sachiko made sure to advance with her grubby finger, placing it just at my aching chest. Before I could protest, the tip of her nail sunk smoothly through and hit dead center of my precious organ. With a silent scream, I thrashed about, yanking away from her giggling self, grasping at my overflowing wound. I felt the life within me slowly ebb away, once again, and I carelessly clawed at the girl in my pooling rage. Easily she leapt back, placing a blood soaked finger to her lips in a quieting gesture. Then with another swipe of her tongue, she lapped at the blood, my blood, cackled, and sent me a shivering message through her killer stare.

When Naomi arrived, trembling and clutching a flimsy wooden plank, Sachiko took her leave and I sat in the rubble, dying again, staring wide eyed up at my company.

"Aren't you the one who saved me?" Naomi asked, relaxing slightly after noting my humanly presence, not yet seeing the horrible gash on my chest.

But on second glance, I noticed there really wasn't a mark left on me.

Sachiko had been serious.

I was her toy and would forever remain as her toy.

There was no such thing as a changed fate for me.

"Yes," I answered quietly, stiffening at her slow, cautious approach. She looked relieved. Being alone in a place like this was horrifying. Even a stranger could brighten the place a little.

Perhaps I could change this girls fate.


End file.
